Trinity
by Kashii Ai
Summary: Trinity; three parts to one whole. Perfect balance, the points on a triangle. These parts are the most important, the most essential and precious. Drabble series reflecting the love, thoughts, and struggles of SE's trinity. 42 souls prompts. KidxLizxPatti
1. Sugar, Snakes, and a Taste of Death

**Disclaimer:** All original Soul Eater characters, story, and affiliated media are copyright (c) 2004 by Atsushi Ohkubo. Kashii Ai, Cassie Drey, and any associated names/companies in no way own the Soul Eater series.

_Trinity _Story copyright (c) 2010 by Kashii Ai, Cassie Drey, and any associated names/companies

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**Chapter 1****: Sugar, Snakes, and a Taste of Death**

**Smear**

It was she who started it (and Patti was always the one to suggest things like this), and it was to her incessant protests that her elder sister and meister finally complied. The two were dragged from whatever they were doing (Kid was reading, and Liz was painting her nails) in favor of walking into the kitchen. The room was large, and stuck to the same black-and-white monochrome that was consistent for Gallows mansion.

"Let's make a cake! C'mon, guys, it'll be fun!" Patti was like the anomaly in their lives (walking sunshine, bubbles on air—Kid called her all those things, but he'd never admit it out loud), the one factor that called them from the mundane activity of attending Shibusen each day, and the physical stoicism required for battling pre-Kishin. She was their wild card.

Death the Kid and Patti carefully measured ("It must be exactly precise!") out the proper ratios for the ingredients. It was only after each measurement was approved by Kid that he would allow her to dump it into the bowl. Patti giggled as a cloud of flour puffed up in a wispy, delicate white cloud as she poured it. A shadow of a smile tugged at Kid's lips. A verge of something.

"Good job." She laughed as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. He closed his eyes in bliss, and leaned slightly forward against the counter, allowing Patti's (it was like honey-filled sunshine, the sweet mixture that was his younger weapon) laughter to wash in a cadence over his ears. He was not prepared for the sudden swipe of a soft hand over his cheek, and the boy flinched and opened his eyes. Liz and Patti both busted up laughing, and the shinigami looked from one girl to the other, huge beautiful gold eyes delicately confused, "What? What's so funny?"

Liz giggled, and pointed to his cheek, across which a huge chunk (did he not feel it?) of chocolate frosting was smeared, from ear to chin. Kid reached up, and gingerly touched his cheek, his face still adorably perplexed. His hand came away, and he stared in wonder at the streak of chocolate. It was a small moment of silence, before a slow grin spread across his face. While his demon pistols were busy giggling, he dipped each hand into the open jar of frosting.

"Payback time!"

**Scrape**

Liz laughed as she dodged Kid, his hand sweeping for her (she knew he was holding back, he much faster, stronger, and more agile, than she was) once again. She ran around the table, and hid behind her sister, who was giggling and backing away as Kid stalked towards them. He held up his chocolate-covered hands, as a slow grin spread across his face. Liz snickered into Patti's shoulder, and she was pushed back as Kid made a grab for her and she squealed and jumped back.

Liz suddenly found that her human shield was gone, and looked around, bewildered, to find a rather sadistic, evil-looking (but he was so sexy like this, too) shinigami ready to pounce her. She screeched as he lunged for her, and ran around the table, eyes squeezed shut. She heard a clatter, a thump, and a baritone scream of "Holy _shit!_" Liz turned, her hands pressed to her lips. She peeked around the table. He was splayed on his stomach, his frosting-cheek face up, the other pressed to the floor, and the chocolate from his hands streaking across the white tile.

"KYAHAHA KIDDO IS A KLUTZ!" Patti obviously thought this was quite an epic situation.

Kid groaned, and began working on picking himself up off the floor. Two scoldings ("I can't believe we made such a mess! Liz, you need to learn to be more careful! And Patti!") and a mopping later, it was discovered that he had taken a long, angry red scrape down his side, and a couple smaller scratches on the bottom of his forearms. The table had done it. He was immediately sat down upon the living room couch following this discovery, and Patti was sent to retrieve the first aid kit.

"I'm fine, Liz, it's just a few scratches."

"Hush. This needs to be treated."

The boy simply rolled his lovely eyes (gold, ochre, liquid light) and slumped back against the couch. He still had frosting on his cheek. Patti returned with the first aid. Liz began by washing his hands of the chocolate frosting. The boy was surly as she did it ("I'm fine, honestly, I can treat myself. _God._"), and there were many huffs and eye rolls of exasperation. Liz finished on his hands.

"Take off your top."

Kid once again rolled his eyes, but complied. Liz hissed slightly (the scrape went from his ribs all the way down to his hip) as she observed the red injury. She got out some antiseptic, and poured the sickly-smelling liquid onto a patch of gauze. He flinched when she dabbed at it. Liz snickered. Really, she just liked any excuse to admire his muscles. She gently cleaned the scrape, allowing her eyes to run over his well-defined musculature, and rested her hand gently against his stomach. After the scrape was treated and taped up ("Seriously? I don't need it . . . ugh, Liz!") and the scratches on his arms were treated, they managed to get the cake into the oven.

Kid smiled as he leaned in and stared at the rising batter, "It looks perfect!"

His scrape itched.

**Lick**

He was startled when she walked up, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He had been studying (he needed to catch up on his Swedish), and the sudden feeling of being embraced from behind had drawn him from his reading.

He was even more startled when her soft, slick tongue snaked out and traveled up his neck.

He had shuddered. Tried to ignore the rising feeling in his stomach (butterflies), and the sudden tightening of his jeans (how awkward). He had been debating for months over the morals concerning himself, these two sisters, and polygamy.

But, then again, there had been something between the three of them, always. From the day he had met the Demons of Brooklyn, it was obvious that it would turn into something more. It was there, in the brush of soul against soul, and the soft hum in their Resonance (Patti sounded like a flute, Liz like a guitar, Kid like a cello) and the cadence of melody it would produce. The medley of sound never ceased to amaze the shinigami.

I love you.

It was there, in their song.

I love you.

Somehow, he always knew Patti would be the one to initiate it.

**Bite**

The sun was warm, as it kissed Kid's skin. He was working away in his garden (he didn't have much time for leisure, so small moments like this were nice), trimming and tending to the rosebushes he loved so much, that he had so painstakingly bred himself. The day was peaceful.

"AAAGGHHHH!! Kiiid!!"

Scratch that. The young shinigami looked around as he heard the patter of feet on grass, and looked up to see Patti hopping toward him on one foot, on the arm of her sister. Kid sighed, and rolled his eyes. What had they gotten into, now? He stood, and brushed off his black jeans, before he approached them.

"What's wrong?"

"A snake bit her." Liz supplied.

"A snake?"

Liz lowered her younger sister to the grass, and Kid sat down beside her. He carefully inspected her injured foot (two neat holes had been planted into her arch, side by side), and sighed. Of _course_ Patti couldn't keep herself out of trouble, today of all days, when he had it off.

"I expect the snake was poisonous?"

"Yeah. It was a rattlesnake."

Of course.

"Well, then. Guess I'll have to suck out the poison. It won't kill me, I'm immortal."

Later, when he vomited the toxins back up, Patti sat beside him, rubbing his back and giggling like a maniac. Of all the days to get a snake-bite. It just had to be today.

Later, he inspected the garden thoroughly.

Upon encountering the offending rattlesnake, its head was hacked off, and the shinigami's frustrations where sated.

**Furious**

He had been furious, the first time he had come home to find his mansion a mess. But somehow, chaos still found its way in. He was less furious the second time around. By the third time, he let it go.

The fourth, he busted up laughing.

It was his demon pistols who taught him how.

**Standing**

He never allowed them on Reaping missions. Liz had been surprised (but there had been something about his eyes, the way he watched them) when the young shinigami had asked them over dinner, if they would come that night. He was silent for the rest of the meal. The demon pistol watched her lover carefully. She read him. He ate intently, eyes cast down, no speaking. Amen. He was wearing his expression (a small crease between his eyebrows, a paper-fold over his normally smooth skin, softly pursed lips in concern, and liquid, liquid, molten-gold eyes) that told her he was troubled. He always wore it before a Reap. Liz wasn't quite sure what he saw on those things. All she knew was that he always came home late.

His body would be hunched. His face broken in half. He would sit down on the couch.

And cry.

Dinner finished. They left. The streets of Troy were sleepy and soft. Michigan winter was a bitch, Liz thought. She watched Kid's back, as he pulled his cloak tighter around himself. It struck her in that moment how small he really looked. Five foot eight of black swirls. Patti looked about curiously, exclaiming as a flurry of snow stirred by them in a whirlwind. Kid suddenly turned. A dark look. An ever-so-slight shake of his head. Now was the time not to speak. Hush, Patti. Hush. His eyes said it.

Liz walked closer to her meister, leaning gently against his back in an automatic gesture, as the three turned their gazes to the road before them. The sign claimed it was John R. road. It was fairly busy, a small ways down from an intersection. The cars trundled by, the soft roar of their engines (the headlights bothered Liz, though, it was annoying) reflecting against the pavement as each passed. Kid's eyes were turned towards the intersection, so Liz and Patti looked that way, too. His voice whispered up against the night air, and it was soft, tender. Sad.

"Her name is Reina, and she's just turned twelve. Her birthday was on Monday. She loves cartoons and theatre, and wants to be an actress someday. She's coming home tonight with her elder sister. They were out to a movie, and are just getting home."

Liz wondered how and why he knew that, and why he was telling them this information. Wouldn't it be better not to know? It seemed it would be easier if the deceased-to-be were faceless. A soft gasp from Kid brought her attention to a red Ford minivan. It was approaching the intersection, and stopped as the light turned red. Liz sighed, and waited. The car started forward, gaining steady speed as it made its way through the intersection.

Liz shrieked and Patti grabbed Kid as the crunch of metal scorched across the air, rending it in half. Liz had her hands shoved over her mouth, and Patti's hands were tight on Kid's shoulders. The grey truck seemed glued to the minivan's side, metal clinging to metal. The young shinigami started forward, his black, curling cloak ruffled by the wind and his legs as he walked. The demon weapons followed. Liz could see that Patti had her hands attached to her face, peeking between her fingers. Afraid of what she might see.

Death the Kid stopped before the wreckage. He held out his right hand, straight to the side. His middle two fingers touched to his thumb, and black and purlpe smoke surrounded his hand. The skull mask of Death appeared in his palm. It was fixed to his face, and he walked forward. An arm appeared, a pretty coffee color, followed by a shoulder, then a head. A beautiful girl of about sixteen pulled herself forward, birthing herself from the wreckage. She was marred by blood. Pain. Shock. She looked beyond herself, back into the black hole of wreckage. Her hands flew to her mouth before they reached out and pulled at a small arm. At this, Kid stopped. He seemed to be waiting patiently as the elder sister pulled the younger from the twist of metal.

Kid stepped forward. He stopped before the sisters.

The young girl was in horrible shape. A section of her chest yawned wide open (why was it that the young had to die? Why? Why? _Why_?), crossing right over the heart. Her arm was twisted in an unnatural way, and Liz could see splinters of bone poking from the skin. The elder sister had paused when she'd heard the scrape of Kid's feet, and eyes slowly traveled up, up, up, to the skull mask. She clutched her sister.

She howled.

Kid was just standing there.

Liz was surprised when he pulled off his mask, and bent to their level. They were both pulled into a hug, and Kid planted a kiss onto the elder sister's forehead. His lips moved, and Liz knew he was murmuring reassurances to her. The elder sister struggled, among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, indecision, grief. His hands moved to the younger girl's chest. The elder sister sobbed, as Kid's hands moved in a circular (Liz had heard of this art, but had never seen it), elegant gesture, as he practiced the art of _konso_. There was a soft blue glow, as the edge of a soul appeared. The elder sister gasped, her eyes glowing with tears under the light of her sister's spirit. Kid took it fully into his hands. He handled it with great care. Cradled it. The tears of the survivor handled his eyes, as he held the soul out to her. She took it, and sobbed as it was embraced. Kid once again wrapped his arms around her, and rocked her as she grieved for her sister.

Death was standing by her. Death was standing there. Standing.

The young shinigami gave the survivor one last squeeze, and gently, tenderly, held out his hands for the soul. The girl hesitated. Her eyes filled with fresh tears. She handed the soul over. Kid gave her a one-armed squeeze as he accepted the soul once again. His eyes closed, and once again he cradled it. He was murmuring something, is soft lips moving in a language Liz did not know. At last, he held the soul up. He brought it to his lips, and kissed it, kissed her, Reina. Right on the forehead. Then it was released. It streaked skyward, leaving nothing but an electric-blue streak of after-image.

Later, after ambulances and grieving and bodybags and chaos, the young reaper and his demon pistols left. Liz watched him carefully, as he struggled with the jangly keys to their mansion. His eyes rusted. His lips were tight. His face was tense. The porch light caught the clear bead as it descended his cheek. Liz caught it, and rubbed it away, his skin like velvet under her fingers. The young shinigami's eyes flickered up to hers.

This is me.

This is my job.

It hurts.

He did not say them. But his wavelength did. Liz leaned down and kissed him, Patti followed.

"From the moment you were standing there . . . you were a comfort. You were there for that girl." It was said quietly. Liz's softly murmured voice drew more tears from his eyes.

"Yeah. I know."

Cuddling in bed, between two warm bodies, seemed to be the perfect remedy for the young shinigami. His eyes were closed in bliss, as Liz played with his soft hair, and Patti burrowed her face in his shoulder.

"Hey, Kid?"

"Yeah, Liz?"

"Make sure you're standing there when Patti and I die, too. For yourself."

A sob-chuckle, "I will be."

"Good."

"Yeah. Good."

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**A/N:** *sigh* Ah, yes. I've jumped on the bandwagon, and I'm doing the 42_souls challenge for LiveJournal. Thankfully, IT IS NOT A SOULXMAKA LIKE EVERYONE ELSE DOES, BWAHAHAH.

Much thank you to caveat lector. She did an awesome job, as always~

These three need more love. Seriously, did you people not see the sheer awesome in this fic? XD KidxLizxPatti is LOVE~ Polygamy FTW!!!

Hee. I had lotsa fun with the first several prompts. They all came out so random. XD

As for the last one, I've been wanting for a while to write about what a Reap would be like for Kid. Mostly the stress it would involve, and the toll it would take on him. I mean, really, how healthy is it for a fifteen-year-old boy to go around witnessing carnage? And really, I'm sure he's been doing it from a pretty young age, it seems wise to condition a child from rather young to handle things like that if they'll be doing it for thousands and thousands of years . . .

Hum. But ethical issues aside, I just think it's an interesting and complex aspect of Kid's character.

I like feedback. I really do!!

_**PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!**_


	2. Are You Watching Me?

**A/N: **It seems that these days, I can't write without some sort of song. Please listen before you read. Take out the spaces~!

ht tp :/ ww w. youtube. com /watch? v= 9n_ XrtQ S96E

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**Disclaimer:** All original Soul Eater characters, story, and affiliated media are copyright (c) 2004 by Atsushi Ohkubo. Kashii Ai, Cassie Drey, and any associated names/companies in no way own the Soul Eater series.

_Trinity _Story copyright (c) 2010 by Kashii Ai, Cassie Drey, and any associated names/companies

* * *

**Chapter 2****: Are You Watching Me?**

**Shower**

Liz woke up unusually early that morning. Peeking over Patti's sleeping form, the clock told her that it was six in the morning. She hadn't really slept (it was night of tossing and turning on her meister's bed), only dozing on and off throughout the night. The demon pistol sat up, staring at the black silk sheets that surrounded her. Her hips were encased in the black and white striped comforter (it still smelled of Kid, like that spicy cologne he wore and staticy ozone) which was hanging half-off the bed, anyway.

Three months, today. He had been gone three months.

Hunch forward, rub eyes, banish the pain that threatened to well up. This had become her daily routine. The shower would wash it away. She struggled up from his bed (Patti slept like a rock and would not wake), and made her way to the laundry basket (if he were here, he would not have things this way) that sat by the dressed, her's and Patti's clothing exploding from the overflowing basket. She and Patti practically lived in here, these days. She picked out a Spartoi uniform, and made her way into Kid's large bathroom. She stripped and stepped under the hot spray.

Let the water wash away the pain, the sorrow, the helplessness. Close eyes and lean against wall. Don't think. Leave mind blank.

It was how she got by.

The water was hot against her skin, and made her flush. She remember an occasion in which Kid had emerged (hair was still wet, he smelled fragrant with soap and his flesh was warm and glowing) from the shower, dressed in nothing but a dress shirt and jeans. Blue jeans—it was rare to see him in those.

_Hey, Liz._

Huge gold eyes watched her.

_We have that mission tomorrow._

She had nodded, they had been going to France, and be allowed downtime. She had been eager for it. The Kishin Egg had been a difficult capture; Kid had to track it for an entire day and night. She remembered laying on the beach the next day (it had been a lazy summer day, nothing but rush of waves and smell of salt and warmth of sun) watching Kid read. He had looked up at her when he felt her stare.

_What is it, Liz?_

She simply ran a hand through his hair, and snuggled closer to him. Soft smile, huge liquid gold eyes.

_I love you too, Liz._

Oh, how she loved the way he always said her name.

**Table**

Breakfast was a quiet affair. It always was, these days. Patti had been awake when Liz had stepped out of the shower, roused by the sound of water hitting porcelain. She and Patti did not talk over their food (pancakes and bacon, with eggs. Kid used to cook it for them all the time), allowing the silence to hang heavy against the air. This mansion had become almost like a tomb—an air of stillness and grief clung to it. Friends never came over, and all the meals were silent. It seemed almost disrespectful, to invite friends, to to talk while one ate, while the master of the house was gone. How far it came from the days the three of them would spread their homework on the living room floor and blare the stereo with everything from Bach to The Birthday Massacre (Kid secretly liked that band and wouldn't tell anyone, something that greatly amused Liz) as they studied.

After breakfast, Patti gathered up the dished and did them.

Liz cleaned off the table. She did it asymmetrically on purpose.

She wished Kid were there to yell at her.

**First**

This was the first time. Never before, had she ever seen her meister so weak—mentally, emotionally, physically. The nights did not shorten as she thought they would upon his return. They stretched long and hard and pained into the night, as she and Patti kept the madness at bay. It had been scary, seeing him (it broke her heart, to discover him sunken in feverish insanity) recite twisted morals, dark truths, _desire_ for destruction. This was not the meister, the teenage boy, that belonged to the Thompsons. This was not the boy they loved.

It was Maka who brought him out of his stupor of madness. Thank God for Grigoris.

But even now, as she stands before him in the kitchen, as he lifts a (no, no, not happening, not happening, this isn't _happening_) a large knife against her sister, does she doubt he'll ever be okay. Liz's reaction is instinctual and involuntary, reflexive from years of fighting on the streets and in Shibusen. Grab slender wrist, twist to inside, he drops knife. He screams, swinging a hand to deliver a blow, but Liz ducks it. Patti is in the corner, looking utterly horrified.

"Kid! Kiddo-kun!" Her voice chokes, as Liz moves away from the stronger, crazed shinigami. He stalks towards them. His eyes are not (dark, dark, these are not the eyes they know) liquid, sunshine yellow. Patti gets up, going to meet him, "Kiddo-kun, please! This isn't you!"

The God pauses, before raising a hand. Patti catches it before he can move it, "Please. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

Kid reels back, blinking clear gold eyes, and a hand flies to his head. He orients himself. Patti sobs and burrows herself in his arms. He stares at the top of her blonde head, dumbfounded, "What did I do?" His voice his unsteady, shaky. Liz feels him pushing at their souls. Liz pushes back. She knows he needs the grounding, the place to root himself, else he can't properly function, Goddammit. Liz walks up to her sister and their boyfriend, and lays a hand on his head. She doesn't need to tell him. He simply shakes his head, allowing it to bow forward, dipping into Patti's shoulder. Liz massages his scalp, running silky strands between her fingers.

"You'll be alright."

"I can see when you lie, Liz." One could never lie to a meister.

"I know. But I thought I'd say it."

**Last**

Liz never thought she'd see the last day, when the insanity plagued him. The infection of madness, over time, began to fade. At this point, Kid still hadn't returned to school. He spent much time outside in the huge Gallows grounds, tending the gardens (roses were his favorite flower, Liz knew) he loved so much. Upon his return, Kid's father had proposed counseling for his son. The boy refused, pride making itself comfortable in its cumbersome, stubborn presence. If Soul could handle it, Kid had said, so could he.

His final lapse in sanity plagued them one evening in their kitchen. It had been after dinner. The three were in the middle of an increasingly competitive game of Egyptian Ratscrew. Kid's soul had spontaneously fluctuated and darkened, struggling with (Liz worried that it would ruin it all, but it couldn't, could it?) all that darkness. She knew how lonely Kid was. She was lonely, too. Their romantic relationship had been somewhat desolate since Kid's return. He was too busy struggling with himself to devote time to herself and Patti. So, he resisted, battling against the storm of madness, leaning over the table, holding his head, sobbing. He tried, tried, tried, to resist (and his will used to be so strong, but what had happened?) the temptation. Liz held tight to his hand, and Patti rubbed his shoulders. At last, the darkness seemed to be releasing him, and Liz could feel, with a great effort, as Kid pushed it away.

He would not hurt them ever again. He smiled, before he fainted.

He was okay, now.

**Nippy**

Thanksgiving night of that year, Nevada decided to snow. Snows in the desert were brief, rare, and only lasted while the sun was down. Thus, the trio was outside, in the garden at one in the morning, to take advantage. The world around them was pristine, perfectly white. Ice encased the trees like layers of candied sugar, and white, soft, frumpy blankets of snow covered everything. It was perfect (Kid loved the symmetry of it) in its fantastical brilliance, silent wonder, beautiful purity.

Liz smiled as she watched Patti and Kid have a snowball fight.

It was rather cold, she thought.

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**A/N:** So. It's been a while with this one. I really should have been more diligent, but life gets in the way, yadda yadda. Meh.

Well, _Irvine_ has haunted me ever since I heard it one night, looking through my Kelly Clarkson discography. In fact, I suggest you check out the entire album, it is very good. I don't know what terrible things happened to Ms. Clarkson, but she was in a very honest place when she made _My December_.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it~

_**PLEASE REVIEW!**_


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